


End-times

by soupdragon



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupdragon/pseuds/soupdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End-times

"...but then I figured there wasn't much point since the world would have ended."  
OK. Jim Ellison had to admit that occasionally, very occasionally, he tuned out some of the details of Sandburg's more effervescent monologues. Normally he managed to get the gist anyway, but on this occasion he must have been off his game because he could have sworn Blair just said...  
"Sorry? The world would have ended?"  
"Uh-huh."  
"Before this seminar on...Monday?"  
"Well, yes man. You know, what with the whole Mayan prophecy and stuff."  
Not for the first time in his three-year acquaintance with Blair, Jim felt a conversation escaping him. "Maya's a prophet? As well as being a druglord's daughter and a teaching assistant? Wow, she leads a busy life."  
Blair looked as if he were contemplating slapping Jim round the head, but years of meditation had taught him that anger was a weakness, and that serenity was the true route to nirvana. Plus, it was debatable whether he could reach. So the younger man merely glared and said, with exaggerated patience, "No, Jim. Not the Maya who, you know, I once considered my soul-mate" (Jim winced, imperceptibly), "more the meso-American tribespeople whose mathematical and astronomical systems are a source of joy and wonder and who developed the most complete written language of first-century Americas. Oh, and whose long calendar suggests that the world will end on December 21st."  
Blair made a complicated series of gestures presumably designed to demonstrate, digitally, the destruction of all known civilization by a mysterious cataclysm. It made him look a lot like a man trying to fend off a host of mosquitos with a fork.  
Jim checked his watch. "So, in 47 minutes time, the world will end?"  
"Well, obviously the precise timings are a matter of conjecture after 5,000 years, but..."  
"Is there something we should do?" Jim carefully kept his voice neutral. He assumed that Blair didn't believe this stuff, but close encounters with spirit animals and the like tended to give you a less than dogmatic approach to belief systems. "Eat peanuts? Hold hands and sing kum ba yah?"  
"The salt and spirituals approach. Hmmm" Blair pretended to consider this. "I like your style man, but not sure that snacks will cut it. Plus, we're out of peanuts, and the store is 15 minutes away, so..."  
"Ok, but how about Naomi?" Jim didn't need Sentinel senses to hear the slight discomfort in his own voice. He still thought of touchy-feely stuff as Sandburg's domain. "Shouldn't you, you know, be with someone you love?"  
Sandburg regarded him steadily with those impossibly blue eyes. "I already am, you idiot," and leaned forward answer gently kissed him. And if the world did indeed end 43 minutes later, well, neither man noticed.

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fanfic, short but (hopefully) sweet, written on December 21st for the dear friend who introduced me to the wonderful world of The Sentinel. And what's a girl to do in the run-up to the potential destruction of the planet but write total fluff?


End file.
